


The Daily Lives of ToruKa Living Together

by TORUKAisJUSTICE



Series: The Art of Not Finishing Shits [8]
Category: ONE OK ROCK
Genre: F/M, In the Beginning, M/M, platonic toruka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23660221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TORUKAisJUSTICE/pseuds/TORUKAisJUSTICE
Summary: Just the story of how Taka and Toru started to live together (albeit in different units) in an apartment building.
Relationships: Morita Takahiro/Yamashita Toru, Moriuchi Takahiro/Yamashita Toru, Yamashita Toru/you-know-who
Series: The Art of Not Finishing Shits [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1070292
Kudos: 35





	1. Welcome to the Neighborhood

**Author's Note:**

> Hello agaaain, my brain got toasted during the IG live and I'm still not able to move on gaaaah. That live was pure gold! So I just...had to write something. But this is in the not finished shits series so you already know what to expect gahahaha
> 
> Anyways, if you're looking for an established ToruKa relationship, then you're in the wrong place. This will start as a platonic one, and will be...like a very, very slow burn shit. Or it might even end without the two getting together because you know, reality sucks.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing and I'm trying so hard not to mention names. Please don't sue me.

_**Early November, 2018** _

Taka yawned, watching as the lights on the elevator flickered as he went down floor by floor. He was rudely woken up by his alarm—and a very energetic call from Tomoya, _I swear that guy’s just getting more hyperactive as he age_ s—reminding him about the meeting with the management regarding their European Tour in December.

To say that Taka’s confused about the setting is an understatement. He can’t understand the necessity to have a very small European Tour—and they’re not even gonna play songs from the new album— _heck, they haven’t even released it! Did the agency need money that bad?_

_Hnnn_ … Taka sniffed, adjusting his facemask as the door parted open, revealing the brightly lit and spacious lobby of the apartment building. Must be because of the losses due to a young girl quitting huh… _That’s too bad, she’s still have a lot of potential but maybe it’s the best, especially if it’s concerning her health…_

He shrugged and briskly walks towards the couches in the waiting area—the taxi driver is still on his way anyway. Some people are already there doing _god knows what_ , and Taka’s eyes crinkled as he smiles under his mask when an old couple nodded at him. This is what he likes best in this apartment building—the security is tight, no media could get past through those doors, so he doesn’t have to worry about photos of him bringing a person into his unit leaked on tabloids.

_Gah, I’ve had enough of those photos to last a life time_ , he cringed as he remembered the chaotic days during their Dome Tour just a few months ago. That was crazy. Never did he thought that the entirety of Japan would be giving shit about the people he meets and dates goddammit! If they have time to speculate and follow the rumors, why won’t they just use it for more productive stuff?!

And then there’s Toru’s dating rumor exploding through the media. Then Tomoya’s issues about his past. Gah, 2018 must have been a nightmare for the PR department, huh? _Poor guys, poor guys._

Tomoya’s case is out of their control because it’s something from the past but Toru’s? He was careless—and so nonchalant about it mou! He’s like, _okay you got me there, so?_

And with that infuriating impassive face, nonetheless!

Taka sulked, sinking onto the comfortable couch and randomly grabbed the fliers perched on the glass center table _. I wish I have that kind of attitude too_ … he sighed and glared at the innocent flier. Oh, so there’s a newly vacated unit just a few doors away from his? Who lives in there anyway? And why did he cancel his lease? _So mysterious_ …but Taka doesn’t have any time for being a detective so he just shrugged and put the flier back on the table, almost at the same time that his phone pinged, indicating that the taxi had just parked on the curb.

He stood up, put the phone into his jacket and walked towards the door.

* * *

The meeting was a swift one, the manager telling them the stuff that the agency wants and the details about their tour, the tickets, accommodations and—

“I hope we can stay in hotels this time,” Ryota said, scrunching his nose like a kid, “ _Maa_ , it’s not like I have problems with buses—,”

“Liar, liar,” Taka said before slumping onto the dark glass table, “You obviously have a problem with them!”

“Eh!?”

“What Ryota is saying,” Tomoya happily barged in, “Is that it’s cold in Europe during December and what if we the hot water runs out again?! We’ll all die!!!” he shrieked in panic, making everyone in the conference room groaned in a mixture of horror and annoyance with the drummer’s loud voice.

“We’ll arrange the backup accommodations this week. You also need to go to America for the shooting of the MV,” the manager finally said, “But for the meantime, stay indoors as much as you can. Especially you, Tomoya,” he said, making the drummer pout like a kid being reprimanded, “and you too, Toru.”

Tired, dark eyes grew wide at that, “What? Why _me_?”

Taka wanted to snicker—

“The fuck are you _laughing_ at?!” Toru growled, kicking Taka’s shins under the table. The vocalist yelped, barely realizing that he had _actually_ snickered.

“That hurts!” he complained before hiding his smirk on his folded arms, “ _Maa, maa_ , you really should lie low these days, Toru-san. Didn’t your face fill the internet just a few weeks ago, huh…?”

“Mou!” Toru groaned, tilting his head back in exasperation. The manager, knowing that the four will now be immersed into their own, little— _somehow fucked up_ —world, started gathering the folders to conclude the meeting.

“We’ll email you the final details, ne? Have a safe trip home,” he said.

“Thank you for the good work as always!” everyone said in unison before the manager leave, his entourage of assistants and representative from the agency trudging behind him like little ducklings.

Ryota and Tomoya instantly started talking about their kids, with Tomoya babbling about his wife. Just a few weeks ago, even before the scandal went out in the media, the drummer had already told them about his wife being pregnant for their second child.

* * *

“Already?!” Taka said in surprise, “Are you planning to _repopulate_ Japan with your spawns?!”

Tomoya shrugged, a smug smile formed on his lips as he gestured his open palms—as if silently asking, _“Well, what can I do?”_ to the three of them.

Taka then threw a half-empty water bottle at that arrogant bastard.

* * *

“I can’t even believe that they actually followed me to my apartment building,” Toru complained as his slim fingers played with the electric cigarette in his hand. Years of being in the band together taught Taka that it’s an indication the guitarist badly needs a smoke or two due to stress. If they’re not inside the company’s conference room, Toru would probably be inhaling stick after stick of cigarettes to calm himself.

“Maybe you need to move into another apartment,” Taka said as he pushed himself off the table, cradling his cheeks on the palm of his hand, “Your security sucks, alright, but you know who sucks more?”

Taka wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Toru just glared at him.

“ _One more word_ , Taka.”

“Toru-nii is just too careless,” Ryota suddenly said beside the guitarist, earning a sharp glare form the man, “I’m just telling the truth! You’ve dated before but the media never caught a whiff of it and now, you’re plastered over the online news sites!”

“There are pictures too~!” Tomoya agreed, “And you look like,” he stood up and crossed his arms over his chest—his face suddenly falling into the _best bored-to-death-Yamashita-Toru-look_ he could muster—, “It’s none of anyone’s business if I went out with this girl, fuck off!”

“But it’s not really anybody’s business!” the leader grumbled with that deep voice of his, “I’m not being careless. It’s just, she’s…” he vaguely waved his hand off.

“Too high profile, _hai, hai_ , we understand,” Taka nodded, his lips pursing in sympathy because he had a trail of high-profile girlfriends in the past too. And dating them is not a walk in the park—the schedules, the company policies and the damage control their management has to do because of their images—and those were probably the very reasons why those relationships never lasted for more than a year or so.

He turned towards the two fathers, “What are your plans for today? Want to eat some hot pot at home?”

Tomoya’s eyes instantly sparkled at that, but then Ryota is already tugging onto the oldest’s clothes, “Not now, Tomo-kun. Didn’t you promised my wife a play date? My princess wants to have some fun with Aki-kun!”

Toru rolled his eyes at the two, while Taka just watched in amusement as Ryota practically dragged the drummer towards the exit. Tomoya can never say no to food—free food cooked by Takahiro himself—but since he started his own family, his priorities somewhat changes.

“I’ll just leave something for the both of you, don’t worry!” he shouted at the two, before the sliding door closed behind them. He smiled, shaking his head, “I’m glad that Tomoya’s being his usual self again.”

Toru nodded, leaning back on his seat, “He’s…he’s always the first one to recover whenever we meet a hindrance in our paths before, so it’s just natural…”

He hummed, putting out his phone and booking another taxi so he can finally go home and laze around. If no one could join him for the hotpot, then he’ll probably just call Takeru to see if he’s available or not. _He’s just so busy these days,_ Taka pouted as he swiped onto his phone, _I’m getting somewhat jealous mouu. He should come sometime for a sleepover to make up with all the missed meetings!_

A comfortable silence fell between them. That’s what Taka loves being in Toru’s company in the last few years. The younger had become matured enough, talking a bit less than before, but still attentive nonetheless. He’s a man of few words, not bothering to fill the silence with incessant and nonsensical babblings. After booking a taxi, he went to Line and scrolled down at the news headline, until his eyes snapped onto that article about Toru’s…recent photos with his girl.

_Wait, are they really dating exclusively since June?_

_Huuuuh_ , he subtly glanced at the stoic man whose head is leaning back onto the top of the backrest, his heavily-lidded eyes gazing at the coffered ceiling, _is he planning to settle down after all?_

_Somehow_ , that leaves a bitter taste in Taka’s mouth.

Well, he knows for a fact that he’s the last one to get hitched in their band. He loves the casual flings here and there, but to marry and settle down at his age? _Nuh-uh_. There’s still so much to do, so many musical experiments to try, so much of the world to see. Love can wait, marriage could wait.

_Besides, I don’t want to rush into things just to have it ruined in the near future_ , he thought, his mind going back to that fortune teller in Taiwan. He shouldn’t be married until 35, or else it’ll end up in divorce. _Maa_ , he’s not really that kind of person who relies on fortune-telling, but somehow, he agrees on her insights. Marriage is the last thing on his mind right now, so imagine his _laughing fit_ when he had read stuff about him marrying that figure skater.

That was one hell of a laughing spree, too much that he actually had to lean onto Toru’s frame to support his—otherwise, he’ll just crumple down onto the floor in the midst of his violent cackling. Too bad he can’t outright post something about it, or else he’ll hurt her feelings.

But Toru is…

“So,” he cleared his throat, putting the phone on the table, “what’s the real deal with her? Are you dating exclusively or what…?”

_Because you’ve never introduced her to u_ s, he wants to say. It became an unspoken rule within their band, to let the other members know about their romances—well, if they’re _serious_ about it. Casual dates are not included, god knows how everyone would meet Taka’s _love interests_ every other month or so during his younger years—but only the serious ones, like Ryota’s ex before his wife. Before their marriage, the two had called a, what they dubbed, “family meeting” to formally introduce their fiancée’s. They ate and talked a lot—and took advantage of those rare moments to spill a shit-ton of ridiculous moments of their boyfriends—after all, they would be family—and they have the rights to see the funniest albeit shittiest sides of their soon-to-be husbands.

So, after reading the articles about Toru, not once but _thrice_ in that half of the year, and the girl with the leader not even bothering to let them hang out with her is just…

Toru warily glanced at him, like he’s weighing the pros and cons of spilling the beans onto Taka. He’s never the type to meddle with anyone’s affair so he would understand if the guitarist would keep his mouth shut about his relationship. It’s, just as he had said a few minutes ago, _none of anyone’s business after all._

“…her father clearly doesn’t want me,” the leader finally mumbled after a few moments of hesitation. Taka’s brows rose at that, I mean, who wouldn’t want a Yamashita Toru for their daughter? He’s— _ack, am I really admitting this_ —very handsome, has a stable job, plays the guitar really well, and dedicated as shit. The confusion and disbelief are probably evident on his bewildered face so Toru ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation, “it has something to do with our images.”

“Well, you have a very good image,” Taka blurted out, “Like the most handsome amongst us.”

…

…

Toru arched a perfect brow at that.

…

“I-it’s true!”

The leader, obviously not convinced with his slip up, smirked, “Supposed that’s true—and thanks by the way—,” Taka groaned, wanting to cover his face with his hands, or that folder, or that plant box, _gaaah, so embarrassing!_ —, “but it’s also about tattoos,” he clarified, “Well, I most certainly don’t have one, but he’s got this, I dunno, weird image about us so yeah.”

Taka’s mouth twisted at that, “There are still people who thinks like that?”

“Yeah. We actually kinda stopped seeing each other after her father’s breakdown or someshit.”

The vocalist’s brows furrowed in confusion. “How about the newer photos where you’ve seen walking out of her agency building or someshit?”

“What, are you paparazzi _now_ , Taka?”

“I feel offended, Toru-san!” he gasped in mock disbelief, “I’m your senpai! You should be telling me stuff instead of me being tagged in some news articles or something! You _never_ told us about her! You _never_ told us that you’re getting serious with her after all these months! And there’s this…this rumor I’ve just read that she’s quitting a job because she’s _pregnant_!”

Toru gave him a blank, constipated look.

“Of _your_ kid!”

Toru looks like he wants to punch something. Or someone. Preferably an annoying, prying shit that goes by the name of Moriuchi Takahiro.

_Uh-oh_. Taka subtly pushed his chair away from the table. Better be safe.

“It’s really funny how _, of all people_ , you would believe those kinds of rumor,” he sighed, opening up his palms, “She’s not pregnant, we never even reached that far, you shithead. I’m not the one who said, in a broadcast, about getting straight into _it_ on the first date, am I?!”

Taka winced. He really hates it whenever the leader would bring up something stupid that Taka had said in the past.

“ _Maa_ , it’s not like you’re saying anything about it to us,” he slowly said, his lower lip stuck out in a gigantic pout. He probably sounds and looks so childish right now, _but we’re friends—practically family—so it’s just acceptable to feel like this, right?_ “When the rumors about me went out last April, I was the first one to explain things to you, because I know that it’ll have some impacts to our tour. Someone even asked about it during a show, right? Coz I want you to, _you know_ ,” he helplessly shrugged, looking at the notification on his phone—the taxi is already waiting for him, “…catch me when I lose my cool, or take over the MC if I would look like I’m about to burst or something. But you…” he sniffled, ignoring how Toru-san is giving him weirded-out looks.

This is so embarrassing, oh god.

Alright, time to wrap up this dramatic shit _. I’m getting hungry and I still have a hotpot to prepare. I’ll just call Takeru later in the cab._

He abruptly got up, grabbed the phone and turned towards the door, “Gomen, gomen,” he sheepishly said, “That was out of line. Just because I’m doing that doesn’t mean you’re obliged to do the same. Just ignore it, alright?” he grinned before waving his hand, “I’ll go out first okay?”

“The fu—!”

Taka paid him no mind as he quickly went out, his mind in turmoil. _Gah, what is this feeling?_ Is this his age finally catching up to him? Is this a form of mid-life crisis? This—this feeling like everyone’s starting to drift away, to have their own families, slowly leaving Takahiro out, slowly leaving him behind…?

But…

_But…isn’t how life goes on?_

Taka bounces on his feet, glancing up at the lit numbers and waiting for the elevator doors to part open.

Nothing lasts forever—they can’t be together and joined at the hip forever. Somehow, _someday_ , all of them would settle down—their priorities would shift—and then—

The metal doors parted open with a ping, but even before Taka could get into the car, a body roughly bumped onto him, unceremoniously pushing him inside.

“What—,” he stumbled forward, barely steadying himself before his face could smash onto the mirrors lining the interior of the elevator car. He glanced at the mirror, his eyes narrowing at the familiar reflection of the leader’s back.

“Do you want to kill me or something, Toru-san?!” he loudly asked, thankful that no one is in the car to see how he stumbled like a drunkard, “What are you even doing here?!”

The leader didn’t even regard him, he just keep on furiously tapping his e-cigarette on his hand.

Oh, so now he’s giving him the cold shoulder, because of prying, huh?

_Well_ , Taka huffed and crossed his arms, leaning onto the glass, _two can play that game! He doesn’t want me to believe the news but he also don’t want to tell stuff?!_ Fine! This would be the last time that Taka would give a shit about it. He silently fumed, waiting for the god-awful ride to be finished already.

“It’s not—,” Toru suddenly said, stiff and hesitant, but still without glancing at him, “It’s not that I don’t wanna share it to you…” he trailed off. Taka snorted at the leader’s pathetic attempt to explain stuff. Well, at least he’s trying. God knows how difficult it is for the stoic guitarist to open his heart out.

“I’ve said it already,” he said without an inch of humor in his voice, “You don’t have to tell me anything. It’s your life—,”

_—it’s your business, and who am I even to bother yourself with_ , Taka inwardly chuckled, bitterness creeping into his system. That’s why he really likes Takeru’s company. The actor could read him like an open book, and Taka doesn’t have to speak or enunciate stuff for him to understand what he wants or what he doesn’t want to say. But this idiot…

_I really should call him._

“You’re mad,” and after a long time, Toru finally graced him with a confused glance.

No, _shit_.

“I’m not,” he answered, annoyance evident on his voice, “I’m just—,”

Offended.

Insulted.

_Aren’t we close enough? Didn’t we share everything before? Didn’t we even read porn books before? Didn’t we even some time in Tokyo looking for ideal girls?_

_So why would you even keep something like this from me?_

_From me—of all people?!_

Ah, hurt. Taka’s _hurt_ , that’s all.

To his relief, the elevator door finally opened at the ground floor. He gave a smile and an acknowledging nod to the employees waiting beyond the threshold as he passed by, his feet quickly trudging towards the exit—not even glancing back to see if the guitarist is still following him.

He had felt this before—years and years ago when his brother was born. Their parents dote on the young baby and Taka, being the brat he is, felt _betrayed_ —feeling like everyone’s suddenly dropped him like a hot potato and left him behind—because that’s what happen when your most important person suddenly finds someone who’s worth more than you, right?

They—everyone in the band—would find someone to love and live with for the rest of their lives and Taka—

Taka would be _demoted_ to being a workmate, a friend, a distant family.

_Hah_ , he breathed the cold autumn air that greeted him the moment he stepped out of the building. The air is dry and he regrets not wearing his mask before leaving the conference room earlier but oh well. He looked around and upon seeing the taxi with the plate number indicated in his phone, he walks towards it and opened the door.

He nodded at the driver and slid into the backseat and again, was about to pull the door close when— _oh god, the universe definitely hates me today_ —Toru-san suddenly materializes beside the car, ducking into it and practically shoving Taka away, “Scoot over,” he said before finally closing the door.

The.

Actual.

_Fuck_.

Taka managed to actually give enough space for the guitarist but his eyes were glaring sharp at the leader. Toru-san is still looking at the back of the driver’s seat as if he didn’t just barge into the taxi leading to the vocalist’s home.

“Everything’s okay?” the driver asked and with a very forced smile, Taka nodded and asked him to bring to his address. They might be having a silent argument but there’s no need to drag it anymore. Besides, they’re in public—who knows who’s listening or watching.

But still, Taka can’t stop the agitation whirling within him. The audacity of this man to manhandle him like that!

“Why are you coming with me?!” he hissed through clenched teeth. Toru-san just glanced at him, his lips pursed in amusement. Oh, he’s enjoying it. He’s definitely enjoying Taka’s demise, the _sadist_!

“What? Didn’t you say you’re having a hotpot?” he asked, before leaning on the seat, “Or are you planning to eat it all by yourself?”

Oh. Food. Right.

Takahiro swallowed the bile rising on from his throat as he slumped onto his seat. He didn’t follow Taka to apologize or clear things up. He just wants some fucking food like a goddamned freeloader.

Oh.

_Alright, I can deal with that._

He inhaled, and exhaled deeply to calm himself. For about ten times—which is numerous enough to make the driver and the guitarist to cast him worried looks.

_What?_

“Yeah,” he croaked out after a while, “But I thought you’re all busy with…” he waved his hand, your lovers, “… _stuff_ so I was planning to ask Takeru if he could drop by today.”

“Takeru?”

“Yeah, Takeru. Satoh Takeru,” he mockingly smiled, “ _Himura Kenshin_ , if you want. It’s been long since we’ve hung out with each other and we’re also going to LA next week so…”

Toru looked at him, a confused frown settling on his usually stoic face, “But you’ve asked us first, so why call him?”

“I already said that I thought you’re all busy, okay?”

“I didn’t even said no,” the guitarist insisted, making Taka to pinch the bridge of his nose in an attempt to soothe his nerves.

“How the hell would I know what you want _, or what you don’t want_ , when you’re not telling me anything?!” he finally snapped, albeit still in whispers, “I’m not a fortune teller, I don’t have any telepathy shits so you have to tell me, Toru-san! Communication is a two-way process, and you can’t just…just ignore or shut me out whenever you want, then expect me to understand whatever shit you wanna say without even actually saying them!”

The guitarist, for once, looked a bit chastised at his sudden outburst. His eyes glanced down before he let out a deep, deep sigh.

“Now, what do you want?” Taka pushed, “Coz I’m really at my limits here and you being the silent bastard you are not saying anything isn’t helping me at all.”

“I…” Toru-san sighed before looking at him once more, “I want to eat hotpot with you so you don’t have to call Takeru anymore.”

“Okay—,” Taka blinked, belatedly registering the leader’s words. What does he have against Takeru? Aren’t we all good friends? Hnnn, but Taka is tired. Just by sitting here and attempting to have a decent conversation with the suddenly very-immature Toru-san is taking a toll on him already. Ah, maybe I’m just too old for these shits, after all?

Whatever.

“Fine,” he finally agreed and slouched back on his seat. He let out a breath of relief as the tension surrounding them slowly, finally, dissipates around them. “Hotpot it is, then.”

* * *

“Tomoya would drool a _river_ if he sees this hotpot,” Toru said as he put another thin strip of a high grade wagyu beef into the pot. Taka nodded, his phone hovering over the filled-to-the-brim pot to take a photo. He’ll definitely torture the drummer for missing this meal.

“You really are a sadistic bastard, Toru-san,” he said as he took one, two, almost five photos just to make sure, before he grinned— _conniving_ , “I’m on it.”

They spent the ride home in relative silence. Taka was done with his fuming, while Toru is just being his usual silent self. After reaching the vocalist’s unit, Toru immediately made himself at home, pulling Taka’s white guitar and strumming on it like crazy. Takahiro, like the dutiful older member, went straight to his kitchen to prepare the stuff. Just almost an hour later and they’re already sharing the hot meal, the thick, savory steam wafting between them.

They eat in silence, with some foreign music softly playing in the background. Surprisingly, it was Toru who broke it, “Your apartment building is really something else,” he said, making Taka to look up from his bowl, the tip of his chopsticks resting on his lower lip, “Nobody bats an eye whenever we go here. As expected of a very high-end one, huh?”

Taka scowled before putting his chopsticks down to grab his cup of tea, “The heck are you talking about? This isn’t that high-end as you put it, you can afford living here too you know?”

“ _Hnnn_ ,” Toru hummed in consideration, “Maybe I should consider moving into another building, after all—I don’t want a repeat of…you know what.”

“Your dating rumor, _hai, hai_ ,” Taka supplied and took a sip. Ah, that instantly washes the now-familiar bitter taste in his mouth. He subtly glanced at the leader, noting how the skin around his eyes are turning darker as days passed by. He’s grown more tired, despite finishing the album already. Maybe it’s the stress due to the rumors, maybe it’s the pressure about his…girlfriend’s father—whatever it is, Taka would never know.

_Maa, the least I can do is to help him alleviate some of that stress._

Like by offering home-cooked meals and doing most of the talking during interviews, na?

_Maybe, I should also help him look for a new apartment—_

Taka blinked, as memories of the apartment building’s lobby flashed onto his mind. He can recall sitting on the waiting area, looking at a flier that says—

“Ah!”

“AH!!!” Toru’s grip on his chopsticks loosened when Taka suddenly leaned over the table, making the bamboo sticks to fall right into the almost empty pot. Both of them stared at the fallen chopsticks, before they looked across each other in complete, eerie silence. “Motherfucking—”

“Eh, _gomen, gomen!_ I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“Why are you even shouting for?!” the leader scolded before he took Taka’s chopsticks to gather his own drenched ones and put it over the rim of his bowl, “That’s dangerous!”

“I already apologized, didn’t I?!” Taka pouted before brightly smiling at the disgruntled leader, “Besides, I have good news!”

Toru gave him a wary glance, “…what? More meat…?”

“Wha—are you _Tomoya_ now? Someone who can’t live without meat?! _No_!” he snapped before wiggling his eyebrows, uh, suggestively, “I know the perfect place where you can move in!”

Toru gave him a wary and veeery suspicious glance, “…”

“Here!” Taka said, gesturing to the…entire unit, “You can move here!”

“In your unit?!” Toru looked like he’s about to hurl the hotpot out, his face pale yet his eyes were just roaming around, like he’s expecting some camera man from a gag show or someshit, “Are you crazy?!”

“Are you the one who’s crazy, Toru?!” Taka face palmed— _which is a progress_ because it’s usually the guitarist who’s doing the face-palming whenever Taka would do something stupid, really, he should’ve recorded this fine moment—, “Why on earth would I ask you to live in here?! I don’t want to be a third wheel in your…you _rendezvous_ with your girl!”

Toru’s eyes went into a full-glaring mode in an instant, “As if I’ll ask you to do that, you little shit!”

“Then why would you conclude something as…as _ridiculous_ as that?!” Taka huffed and leaned back on his arms, “Anyway, I saw this flier early this morning about a newly vacated unit just a few doors away from here. The rent would probably the same as mine, and as large as this unit, so what do you think?” he hopefully asked, the wishful grin never leaving his face.

“I don’t know…” Toru combed his dark hair back in deliberation, “I was just thinking about it, what? A few seconds ago and now you already have a suggestion for the place? Can you give me more time to, uh, think about it?”

Taka’s smile faltered for a moment, “What’s there to think about? Can’t you see it’s a win-win situation for our band activities and your, uh, private matters?”

Toru, the bastard, pulled a bland face before taking a sip on his own cup of tea, “Tell me the reasons on why I should accept your offer, Taka, and I’ll think about it.”

“ _Da-ka-ra_ , you don’t have to think about it anymore! And don’t sound like I’m forcing this to you, you ungrateful shit! I’m just concerned about you!” he boldly announced for the entire world to hear.

…

…

…

There was…a few heartbeats of silence, neither of them talking, nor taking their gaze away from each other. The awkwardness is on its all-time high and Taka wants to strangle himself so much for uttering those shits _. Gaah, that’s why I prefer Takeru’s company! He won’t judge me and stare at me like I’ve confessed in the middle of the road or something_ —instead, he’ll just giggle and tackle Taka into a bear hug to dispel the awkwardness between them.

“ _Maa_ , if you’ll live here,” he cleared his throat and started talking as if he didn’t just blurted something so shameful, “we can make songs more frequently! And it’ll save us time and effort too, because we don’t have to drive across Tokyo just to go to the studio!” Toru-san gave him an amused look at the word ‘ _drive_ ,’ “Shut up! Don’t look at me like that, you can drive, good for you, _mou_!”

The guitarist raised his palms in mock defeat, “I’m not even saying anything— _yet_.”

“I know that look!” he hollered before he continues, “Anyway, I can also hitch rides with you whenever we go to the airport or something. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“What? My car getting filled with a shit ton of _your_ baggage?”

“No, it’s us saving gas and carbon monoxide emissions to help Mother Earth, you selfish-car-loving shit! Can you…” Taka massaged his temple, the remaining hotpot between them has been long forgotten, “can you just let me finish talking, huh, Toru-san?”

“But your reasons sound like you just want me here to be your personal chauffer!” the guitarist retaliated, “And we could just, I dunno, rent a small studio near our houses so we could go there and make songs, right? So there’s really no notable shits in your reasoning!”

“Well, I’m getting there! If you weren’t just being an asshole who loves cutting me off!” Taka growled out, the need to childishly slam his fists on the table getting stronger and stronger by the minute. _Gah, why is Toru-san being so difficult!_ The day’s not yet over and they’re already going for each other’s throat not just once, but twice already!

Probably seeing the absolute distress on Taka’s face, Toru slowly exhaled and motioned for him to continue but not without mumbling a soft, albeit a bit forced, “Gomen, gomen.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Taka stresses out, “As I was saying, the building’s security is very tight. Those media people would have to go through the eye of the needle first before they could see you and your girlfriend typing the passcode in your door lock, like the last time,” Taka swallowed, hard, when Toru-san watched him with hawk-like attentiveness, “See, it’s a win for us being able to do songs together, and a win for your—yeah,” he shrugged, “you can take her here without thinking about the media the next day, okay?”

Toru stared at him for a few more moments, making Taka fidget nervously on his seat, before the leader pursed his lips and glanced towards the sliding door leading to the balcony. “I…” he said, fingers drumming on the table, “I think I need a smoke.”

Oh.

_He’s trying to escape_.

“Fine,” Taka sighed, not really wanting to pushed his arguments any further. He’d laid out his suggestions, the stuff he thought would help the guitarist—he’d done his part, so it’s up to Toru-san to decide whether he’ll take it or not, “Just mind the ashes. I’ll clear this shit up then we could review the director’s ideas about the MV,” he said, gesturing to the dishes laid out on the table.

“Yeah,” Toru nodded before standing up, “Thanks as usual for the meal, Taka.”

* * *

Toru couldn’t really comprehend when the change had started. Sure, he knows that Taka has a flair for the drama, but in the last few weeks, he noticed that it went a notch higher than before. The guitarist blamed it on Tomoya’s issue—amongst all of them, it was actually Takahiro who’s been in the worst during those times. The drummer had consoled him multiple times, trying to comfort the vocalist whenever he’s anxious and feeling desperate and scared—oh, Toru would rather get punched than to see that distraught, helpless look on Taka’s face during the meeting with their label shortly after the first online news was posted.

He looks so…frail, so frightened, so small and so much younger for his age as he babbled about the probably consequences and punishment the label could do their band. Toru had wanted to sit beside him, to assure the vocalist that everything would be alright in the end but he was rooted on his spot, his mind getting divided between Tomoya’s rumors, the implications, the repercussions, the on-going Orchestra tour and his very own affair rumors. It was hard to see Taka like that, but it was _harder_ to wrap his chaotic mind around reality.

But, Takahiro has proven himself to be the strongest amongst them. He was the first one to bow in apology, so deep that he might as well disappear onto the floor—he was the one to argue with the higher-ups, he was the one to persuade them from doing any sanctions at all—“ _we make a lot of money for you guys, so let this one slide, please”_ —over and over again, when it was Toru who should’ve been doing all of this things.

He was the _leader_ after all.

But Taka had taken the entire burden on his shoulders and so they went off—moved on, move forward—like what they’ve been doing right from the start, since Alex-senpai’s incident, and many more minor hiccups in their careers.

_Taka sure is strong—_

So, when they kinda argued in the conference room earlier, when betrayal and hurt and loneliness showed on Takahiro’s face—Toru couldn’t help from asking himself—when did something gone wrong?

Was he wrong, to think that Taka is strong?

Or was he just too _naïve_ , too _dumb_ and _self-centered_ to never notice that Taka—despite being the loud, brash, and seemingly _bright-as-the-motherfucking-sun-itself_ demeanor—is still harboring the same fears, the same pain, the same desire for acknowledgement and peace, like everybody else?

But…but that doesn’t mean that he has the right to tell Toru—to make Toru feel obliged to tell him everything. They’re close friends, yes, but they’re still just band mates _, first and foremost_ , so for Taka to ask stuff like that is just…

Toru inhaled, allowing the ice-like menthol flavor if his cigarette before exhaling, puff of white smokes billowing around him. It’s hard to open up, but then again, Takahiro is right. He’s always been right. Toru feels a bit sheepish, lately realizing that all these years, he had just taken Taka’s trust for granted, but not giving anything back and the vocalist is right—which is not surprising, _Toru might as well ask Taka for lottery numbers because he’ll probably say the right numbers anyway_ —in order to avoid the same squabble they had earlier, they must have…proper communication with each other.

Which…

Actually sucks because that’s not Toru’s forte. But he’s ready to try, really, if it makes Takahiro…less moody and happier, then he might as well do it.

So, yeah, in the end and despite not really thinking about it at all during his half hour of smoking session on the vocalist’s balcony, Toru finally agreed to take the unit. And no, _it’s not just because_ of the bright, blinding and satisfied smile on Taka’s face after he said okay, but also because of his desire for peace and privacy in the future.

They spent the rest of the day talking to the building administrators, the surprise on his face was evident upon learning the identity of the new possible tenant. He didn’t said anything, just asked Toru to fill up a shit-ton of forms and to pay some minor stuff.

In the next few days, Toru busied himself with packing up his important stuff. The rest could be handled by the moving company. He had talked to his admin and they’ve released his lease without even batting an eye. Takahiro and Ryota would show up for a while, trying to help him move stuff into boxes—emphasis on “ _trying_ ” because they would end up reading shits and/or reminiscing about the past whenever they see something of sentimental value. Toru had to kick them out afterwards because he’ll never be done into packing with these idiots roaming around his unit.

It took him about three days to finish moving everything into boxes. His unit isn’t as big as Taka’s—it’s just for sleeping and hanging out when they don’t have shown anyway so the stuff is way fewer than the vocalist’s. he sighed, hands perched onto his waist as he take a final look at the unit that served as his home in the last few years.

_Well…nothing lasts forever, anyway_ , he shrugged before fishing out his phone and dialing the vocalist’s number. He might as well take advantage of his new unit’s proximity with the vocalist.

“ _Moshi-moshi~!”_

“Hey, I’m done here,” he gruffly said, before he plopped onto the bare wooden floor.

“What, you want a congratulatory party, Toru-san? A pat in the back?” oh, how Toru wants to end the call right there and then, “You _should_ be! It’s already three days and I’m _sick_ of looking at paint brochures already!”

“ _What_.”

Taka rattled on, completely ignoring the offended, slightly exasperated tone on Toru’s voice.

“My friend recommends an interior decorator, but I said that it’s better to personalize the space, right? Knowing you, you’ll probably just choose white or cream or gray, so leave the choosing of paints to me, nee?”

Toru’s mind was attacked with the _hideous_ flames that Taka oh-so loved to wear these days. He cringed at that, “Hell no!”

“What—,”

“You’re not coming anywhere near a paint or someshit—,” Taka started to curse like a fucking sailor on the other line but years of being with the vocalist had given Toru this wonderful ability called selective hearing, so he just promptly ignored the harsh _, “I’m-gonna-draw-human-people-all-over-your-walls-just-you-wait” threats_ ,, “I’m just calling to tell you that there’d better be lunch when I get there or else, I’ll cancel the lease!”

“The fu— _oh now_ , you just want me to be your personal chef!” the vocalist hissed and Toru is seriously wondering if he should really just cancel the contract, “Your reasons are so obvious! You want home-cooked meals, and now that I’m thinking about it, you don’t even have to hire a cleaning-‘ _baa-chan_ because you know I could do it for you!”

…

…

“Well,” Toru spoke after a while of awkward silence, “ _Would you_?”

“Of fucking course you idiot or else I’ll trip in your trash whenever I’ll crash at your place, _do you even have to ask that_!” and then, Taka’s voice mellowed down, back to the usual tone that Toru had been so used hearing in the years they’ve spent together with the band, “Maa, we’re practically neighbors now, right, so, welcome to the neighborhood, I guess?”

…

…

…

“Pff _f_ t!” Toru couldn’t stopped that small laugh escaping his lips at the dramatic shit the vocalist had just pulled. As expected, Taka heard it and went ballistics once more, threatening to throw all the food he had made if Toru is a minute late or someshit before finally ending the call.

Toru shook his head an amusement, before he picked himself up and grabbed the last box that needs to go into his car.

And thus, the _adventures and woes_ of living in the same apartment building with Moriuchi Takahiro starts just like that.


	2. Paintworks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, an update. I really thought that this would be shelved right-away ahhhhh. God, the OOC-ness in this chapter killed me, wtf. What's wrong with Taka dammit. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Late November, 2018

Taka flew to Los Angeles a few days earlier than the other members of the band to meet with some of his friends. Seungri was luckily in the same town and so, normally they have to hang-out! _That’s what friends are for, right?!_

But he didn’t spend the entire few days drinking and partying in his house, _mou_ , god knows how the leader would _bitch_ him about it. He also talked to some producers, finalizing the days and stuff. He really liked the theme for Wasted Nights’ music video—the images of dark, rainy nights melting into a soft, bright dawn at the end—just like how life is.

The song feels quite good too—the lyrics a bit too repetitive, but conveys a strong message—do it, _it’s now or never._ He likes that, as well as the other members so that’s why it would be getting a music video, instead of the title song for their album.

_Eye of the Storm is quite tricky_ , Taka admits. Although it has heavy instrumentals, he can’t really imagine a music video—a visual for it. Hnnn, but maybe that’s also why he’s a musician and _not_ a director—he’ll never know, so he just shrugged it off.

Besides, he has a more important task to focus on to right now.

He licked his lips—it was too dry these days that he would still unconsciously try to peel the skin off because he’s so used doing that while talking or watching something or just being plainly anxious—as he swiped through the color pallets he had saved from the internet. He had been searching like crazy for the right colors that he wants to go on Toru-san’s walls since Seungri had left.

Of course, the guitarist _never_ asked for his help on that matter but Taka just shrugged it off, the bastard couldn’t properly ask for favors like a normal person anyway so he’ll let it pass. Besides, for some reason, Taka wants to be involved in Toru’s unit renovation as much as possible!

_I dunno_ , he rolled onto his stomach on the beige couch and clutched his phone a bit too tightly, _there’s just a certain allure just by knowing that I could choose the colors for his unit!_

_Ah, what to pick, what to pick?_

Something that would complements Toru’s cold-like persona. He’s cool, but Taka couldn’t just paint ice blue all over the house right? The interiors should be warm too—cozy, inviting, _homey_ —somewhere Taka could easily make himself home in a matter of minutes.

Oh well, he’s _not_ picking the colors just because he’s planning to stay much in Toru’s unit. He doesn’t want to cockblock him or something after all; Taka visibly winced at that thought.

Back to the colors—why is it so hard to choose?! And why is there, like, a _gazillion_ of colors to choose from?!

_What’s even the difference between Floral White and Brick White?!_

Jesus, he needs a drink!

And so, Taka left his phone to get a cup of wine. He’s been drinking by himself, sipping the blood-red drink between meals, while trying to play the piano or when he’s just getting the nerve. He was just gone for a few seconds when his phone pinged with the familiar Line notification.

Who’s that? He thought as he put the glass on the coffee table and wiped his hands onto the soft, loose pants he’s wearing, _Takeru-san?_

No, it was Toru-san.

It was Toru-san sending him a message—no, a photo of his newly renovated, _newly painted_ apartment unit. Taka gripped his phone a bit too tightly—and if he’s just hitting the gym like the leader, he’ll probably smash it into pieces—as he stared at the picture of the interiors—soft, gray wall paints, a dash of darker color on the baseboard, a huge, flat-screen television hanging up on a floor-to-ceiling accent wall filled with dark wood planks.

_“Look, I even put some wood backing,”_ the message says, _“Classy, isn’t it?”_

Taka is seething.

How dare—

_How dare you—_

In a matter of seconds, Taka is swiftly dialing the guitarist’s number—his chest tightening in anger, betrayal, and a hint of…what? Disappointment? Was that _disappointment_?

Over _what_?

_You didn’t even asked Toru for approval_ , he thought, his teeth worrying over his lips as he anxiously waits for the leader to pick up _, you just got ahead of yourself and started planning—for a unit that’s not even yours!_

His inner mind wants to laugh—aren’t you being a bit too control-freak, Takahiro?

He wanted to refute that, but Toru-san finally picked up, mumbling a tired, “Osu!”

But Taka isn’t in the mood for a _simple “osu!”_

He wants explanations, he wants reparations, he wants—I dunno—some kind of apology?! What for?! Gah, his mind hurts for all the thinking, dammit—might as well, do the usual. You know, scream and give shits to their ever-patient leader.

“What the hell was that?!” he asked, anger evident in his voice—he was too loud, he can even imagine the younger man pulling the phone away from his ears to avoid his eardrums getting shattered—, “When did you have your walls repainted?!”

“Wha—stop screaming!” Toru-san said, his voice a bit too soft—maybe, he had actually pulled the phone away—, “What are you fussing about this time?!”

This time? _This time?!_

“The walls!” he repeated, a bit more shrilly this time, “I told you to leave the paint works to me!”

There was a short silence, Toru-san’s probably massaging his temple or something, “And didn’t I tell you to never go near any paint or shit, Taka? I don’t want my walls with your _ugly_ flames, thank you very much!”

“What!?” he gasped, clearly offended, “Those flames are not ugly! They’re cool!”

“Says who?”

“ _Me_! They’re cool and nice and shits!” he said, desperately trying to defend his currently preferred motif, “And besides, why do you care?! I’m the one who’s wearing them anyways!”

“It’s the same!” Toru-san gritted out on the other line, “This is **my** unit and I get to decide what color the walls would be!”

Taka felt his chest hurt like shit at that instant. It was like…like when he got shots in the hospital. It hurts like a bitch—but this time, it feels like a hundred times worse. He…he had to clasped his chest, clutching the thin, white shirt , as if it’ll actually stop the stinging pain.

Disappointment— _he’s sure now—_ that’s what he’s feeling.

“But…but…” he started, his voice getting rough so he swallowed down, trying to clear his throat free from that familiar tightness, “I thought… I thought…”

_You thought what?_

“What is it, Taka?”

And for some reason, Toru-san’s voice suddenly softened. Like he can see how Takahiro’s eyebrows are furrowed right now, how he’s clutching his chest in pain, how his mind is turning gears to process this…this ugly feelings swirling within him.

_It was just good ol’ you, assuming things._

That’s why you get disappointed a lot these days, his mind hammered down words after words, your expectations are too high, you’re assuming things too much.

“Nothing,” he runs his tongue over his parched lips, “Nothing. I just… never mind.”

“Taka…” his tone was patient, yet also threatening. Taka knows that sound—Toru wouldn’t take that lame _“never mind”_ as an answer, and he’s ready to wait for Taka to spill it—no matter how long it takes.

_Well, what do you want me to say?!_ He pursed his lips as he stared at the sliding doors leading to the pool area, _that I was disappointed because you decided to paint your unit without even consulting me?!_

He had imagined Toru-san and him trying to peel the old paint away, scrubbing and scrubbing the day away while wearing loose, old clothes. Then they would wash up, eat dinner and paint the next day. He could see paints sticking onto the guitarist’s hair, on the top of Taka’s nose as they get lost in the task. He could hear their laughter, could smell the thinner in the air, could feel the soreness from his arms for exerting too much effort. He could visualize day ending with the two of them laying on their backs on the wooden fall, their sweat drying off their bodies as they take in the new colors of the interiors—wide, satisfied grin plastered on their faces— _ah, how Taka could vividly see that scene_ —

In his dreams.

_Only_ in his fantasies.

God, that would be so pathetic.

He sounds so pathetic.

“ _Mou_!” he roughly exhaled through his nose and aggressively ruffled his already messy hair, “I’m just—I thought—We—I—,”

“Speak like a _proper_ human, Taka.”

“I don’t want to hear that from a Gachapin like you!” he snapped.

“ _Gacha_ —,”

“What I’m saying is, I—I thought that you’ll…want my help in choosing the colors for your unit, okay? I am— _was_ —looking for the right colors for your walls and then you’ll suddenly send that photo?! How—how can you—I mean—aren’t we _friends_?”

“But friends don’t _usually_ pick colors for the one’s house, Taka,” Toru-san deadpanned. He’s just telling the truth but that felt like a huge blow—like a giant hand punched the living daylights out of Taka’s face. And much to his agony, the guitarist had just to add more salt—no, a stockpile of salt on his open, raw and still-bleeding wound, “You can only do that if you’re a designer, right? Or my _wife_.”

_But you’re neither, so…_

He might have as well said that, and the impact on Taka would still be the same.

“O-of course, of course, I mean, _haha_ ,” a pathetic laugh from a pathetic person, “I-it was just my assumptions, sorry for overstepping my boundaries, Toru-san.”

“Overstepping what— _are you drunk, Taka_?”

The vocalist cringed at that, subtly eyeing the glass of wine conveniently forgotten on the center table. Was he right? Is he drunk? Can he blame all this…weird emotions on being intoxicated with alcohol? Will he forget the… the pain when he wakes up tomorrow?

A small voice at the back of his head is telling him that no, you won’t—for, like, _ever_.

And somehow— _somehow_ —Taka believes that voice.

“Taka?”

“I _might or might not_ have been drinking wine since…hours ago,” he said, trying to laugh the sting off, “So, as I was saying, I clearly assumed wrong. I just got too excited, you know? It’s the first time that a friend would be…living so near to me so I thought— _god_ , I thought I could have a say about your wall paint,” he groaned, not really liking how it sounds, “Sorry for being a control freak again.”

“ _Maa_ ,” the leader said after a few moments of contemplation. Taka could hear the sound of a sliding door being opened, then the faint buzzing of air, and finally, the sound of puffing out of smoke—he’s probably smoking on the balcony, Taka decided. “You’ve always been a control freak,” he easily agreed, making Taka silently wince—no need to affirm to that, Toru-san, spare me some mercy, won’t you?!—, “even in our shows, the lights, the sounds, your health—you want complete command on them.”

Taka doesn’t have any idea on how to respond to that.

_Is he scolding me or what?_

“But deciding what colors my unit should have _shouldn’t be your concern_ —at all,” he said, finally, nailing the final shit on his coffin.

“Y-yeah,” he gulped, wondering why the house is suddenly looking so blurry. Ah, maybe he’s drunk after all? But.. but why do his eyes hurt? “I know, and I’m sorry okay? I just thought…as a friend… _whatever_.”

“Ah, Taka, you know the world won’t always spin the way you like it just because you’re _sulking_ , right?”

“ _What_?”

“I said,” another puff, “The paintworks’ done anyway so there’s no need to cry your eyes out over it—,”

“I-I-m not—,” he sniffled, “I’m _not_ crying!”

“—of course, even the dead could sense you’re sniveling, you crybaby!” Toru-san said before he laughed, the sound rough and slightly hoarse, “As I was saying, you could help me pick up some furniture—,”

A spark of hope— _so weak and so tiny_ —and yet—

Such a dumb request and yet Taka’s heart is already fluttering beneath his chest _. I wonder what’s wrong with me? Is it still because of the wine…?_

“B-but you already have some—from your old unit…?”

“Yeah, but some of them needs to be replaced already,” the leader explained, “Besides, I’m planning to turn the spare store room as a studio—,”

“A what?!”

“A home studio,” Toru affirmed, probably sensing the weak, yet excited smile that’s slowly forming on Taka’s shaky lips, “I don’t need a storage room anyways. It’s quite narrow, but it’ll be just for two persons so I think it’ll do—,”

The spark brightens—shines so much that Taka hesitates to actually grab it—what if it’s false, again? What if he’s setting up himself from another painful moment of disappointment? What if his assumptions are wrong again?

“T-two?” he stuttered because why the fuck not. He’s in an emotional roller coaster, _so give me a break, mou!_

“Well, since we’re just a few doors away from each other, you might as well use it for writing songs, right?” a sudden pause, “What, you don’t want to?”

“I want to!” he eagerly nodded, “God, I’ve always wanted to!”

“ _Ohhhhkaaaay,_ ” the leader hesitantly drawled, “So it’s settled then? We’ll go shopping once we get back here before the European Tour, alright?”

“Y-yeah,” Taka nodded, wondering what prompted the leader to change his thoughts. He’s not his designer nor—heavens forbid—his lover, so why? “B-but, can I ask a question, Toru-san?”

“You never asked permission to ask a question before, Taka,” the leader said, “Spit it out.”

Is he really gonna ask that?!

_Eh, what’s the best way to confirm your assumptions than to ask it straight away?_

“I’m just curious,” he started, trying so hard—and failing—to sound so unaffected, “choosing your furniture—isn’t it something…that a designer or…or your wife would do…?”

The spark pulsed— _dimmed_ —

“ _Maa, maa_ ,” Toru-san mumbled for a second, sounding like he’s fumbling for the appropriate words to say, “You’re not a designer and certainly not my…wife, but you’re _Takahiro_ , you know?” he said, shrugging, as if that’ll explain everything—but look how Taka accepted that as a proper answer—, “and Takahiro cries like a kid for being denied, you know?”

—and then it exploded, shining so bright it burns Taka’s everything.

_“W-what kind of answer is that?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -the described interiors of Toru's unit was from the latest Monster Rock episode, I think it was aired on...early 2019?? Where Toru also discussed the...burner? fireplace?? that the three gave him for his 2018 birthday.
> 
> I've always have this mantra in my life: "lower your expectations so you won't be disappointed" and "it's always my fault for assuming things" so it kinda reflected on Taka here gahahahaha
> 
> Thanks for reading~!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning the next chapters to be like about, painting jobs, selecting furniture, Toru's own home studio, eating together--just mundane everyday shits that they might do. But hey, if you've got suggestions, please don't hesitate to make a comment~!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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